Crawling
by cashew
Summary: It's haunting how I can't seem to find myself again, my walls are closing in. DG...I'm too lazy for an actual summary, sorry.
1. Chapter One

Crawling

Chapter One

She promised me everything. She took away my pain for a temperamental basis. My world was perfect, if only for a little while. I had always promised myself that I would be happy, no matter what cost. However, when my happiness resulted in the form of a small redhead the cost proved to be so much more than I could pay.

It was ironic really; I had always thought myself immune to love. I had been thankful for my exemption from this disease; it was all nonsense that made logical people behave in insane manners.

Now I was the insane one. I was the one left alone and brokenhearted. I, who was so positive that my heart could not be broken…It had taken me years to make myself as cold on the inside as I appeared outwardly, I had thought that my defenses could not be breached. Especially not by a Weasley…

My own callousness and utter stupidity gave her cause to leave, and even greater justification to her reigning unhappiness. It killed me that I had hurt her. At the time, I wrote it off as being 'for her own good' and saw it as a form of self-sacrifice and protection. It was cowardly and I despise myself for it.

There are times when I hate her though, hate her out of my own selfish anger. I hate that she hadn't fought harder for us, that she had just accepted the fate that I laid out before her, and that she just left when I asked her to. I hate that she didn't see behind my mask, behind my lies. I hate that she had tried so hard for so long to save me, and then she just gave up. But mostly I hate that she won't come back to me.

I can still see the defeated look in her eyes when she looked at me. I can still hear that lifeless tone in her voice when she called me a hopeless cause. She was right, perhaps I am hopeless. However, I don't want to be.

There was a time when I had fought her and wished for nothing more than for her remove herself from my presence. She was so innocent, trusting, and naïve. I have ruined her though, I made her into a cynic that will always wary of other's intentions. I tainted the virtuousness caused me to fall in love with her…and for that, I shall never forgive myself.

I've spent the past three years without her; I don't want to spend any more. I want her to come back to me; I want her to save me. I am willing to be her pupil so she can teach me of love, as she had always wanted to.

I want the light to come back in her eyes; I want them to light up and sparkle whenever she sees me. I want her to love me again…

I smiled bitterly at what she had reduced me to. Sitting alone in my study with my glass of port wallowing in wistful reflections.

I want her back more than anything; I would give up all of my possessions, everything that I once held dear, just to have her willingly in my arms.

There was a time when I had that without having to give anything in return.

------

Four years earlier

I awoke to the sun beating down heavily against my face. Not an entirely pleasant way for one to wake after one has spent the previous night indulging themselves in alcohol.

My eyes reluctantly opened with the satisfying realization that I was now the master of all that surrounded me. My 'dear' mother had finally departed from this world after her long struggle with self-provoked delusions mixed with her own alcoholic tendencies.

Father had long since taken the easier way out. A grand total of three and a half months in Azkaban did him in by way of suicide. Mother had taken permanently to her bed the very second that she discovered the news of her husband's ruin. She clung to life though, if for nothing else than to spite me, for I could not truly be the master of the Malfoy until she passed. Lucius had seen to it in a spout of insanity that his wife would succeed him, and his son her.

However, she was gone now, and no one was left in my way. No one was around to screw with the Malfoy fortune any longer. It was still intimidating in amount, but not the size that it once was. Only one generation of service to the Dark Lord had seen to that. Evil, after all, is quite expensive.

No more though. I would triple the largest amount that our fortune had ever been. My father's greed had lain in power, mine in possession. Power was fickle and not entirely real. Power does not have the same lasting results of wealth, and, besides, it is not possible to have true and absolute power. There is no way short of mind control to get every man, woman, and child to respect, honor, and obey you. But in money and possessions, you could buy what you did not already have. Prestige could be bought if so desired; naming the right price is all that is required.

My father did not have enough money to gain the one thing he truly wanted, but where he failed, I would succeed. I was young, ambitious, and hungry...a good combination in my eyes.

I stumbled out of the oversized bed and dressed quickly, ignoring the pounding that was in my head. No time for hangovers.

Walking down the stairs, I felt the addicting scent of coffee reach my senses. Reaching the drink in a zombie-like state, I drank it down quickly, feeling it overcome the results of my personal celebration.

The funeral was today. This came to me with an unpleasant quickness, as I knew it my duty to go. A benefit of being a Malfoy is that I wouldn't be expected to be the heartbroken son. As my wardrobe mostly consisted of black clothing I had no need to change from my original outfit, it would do.

------

The coldness of the winter day hit hard. Everyone around me shivered and made pathetic attempts at warming themselves by rubbing their hands together or giving themselves a protective hug. I stood in complete stillness as if I were somewhat hot; it did no good to show that an enemy such as the weather could overtake you with such quickness.

The funeral itself was…dark. She had planned her own funeral, down to the very last black flower. My mother was just that kind of person. If she didn't do it herself it was bound to have flaws and mistakes, and that was not acceptable. Even in her grave, she was worrying about what others would think.

That is one of the biggest mistakes of Malfoy women; they tend to make efforts to please. Please yourself and the hell with everyone else, that was the unspoken motto of the Malfoy men. With the extreme exception of my father, that is, who served in a disgustingly obedient way to one half blood.

I felt a presence beside me; I needn't turn to discover who had dared to approach me. Only one man had that powerful aura about him, my grandfather. He was a mean-spirited, uncaring, selfish son of a bitch; and, consequently, one of the few beings whom I held any respect for.

"Grandfather." I acknowledged curtly.

"Draco, my son."

My son. He had always called me that, always said that Lucius was an extreme disappointment. Since we shared that particular sentiment, we each crossed out Lucius in the generation gap. Cronus Malfoy always was more like the father that I expected anyhow. True to his name in every sense of it's origin…with the important exception of swallowing his children. Though he says now that he wished that he would have.

"You are twenty-one now Draco, and the successor of the Malfoy throne. I feel it necessary to speak to you after the funeral."

I nodded and took one last look at the elaborately dreary scene. "We can leave now."

He turned and led me to his carriage. He despised magical transportation, said it was unstable and cheap. So on his orders we rode in silence to the place of his and my father's birth. A place that's darkness overpowered even that of Malfoy Manor.

Grandfather's home was intimidating, cold, and a most unwelcome site. I relished in it and looked forward to the day when it would be in my possession.

-------

I sat in my grandfather's study mildly impressed by the effects of his fire and lack of any other light. It made for an eerie glow of sorts.

"Draco," he called from behind his large desk, "now that you are the official head of the Malfoy I do hope that you have a plan of stability. Our fortune is not what it once was; I look to you, son, to rebuild our empire."

"I do have a plan, you needn't worry."

"I never do," he assured.

I stood, "Is that all that you needed?"

He nodded but stopped me as I turned to leave. "Just a word of advice," he called out, "know that while you may be head of this family there are still others above you."

Comprehension came immediately; he meant himself. Our family structure had always been set up oddly; it began with the first inklings of our wealth. Dorian Malfoy had first struck fortune when he took up business in "trading." Trading, of course meaning that he cheated and stole his money, but saying that our wealth began in the trade sounded much better. His son, Aidan, did not have the patience to wait for his father to die before taking the fortune into his own hands, so he simply overthrew his elderly father. Thus began the grand tradition of the son inheriting all once the father reached the age of fifty.

The story grows longer though, as the overthrown fathers added their own clauses into this unspoken contract. It was a checks and balances of sorts, the eldest of the family had the most power, but the head of the family had all the control. I'm aware that it doesn't make sense…but it works.

-----

Malfoy Manor seemed to have a subdued aura to it upon returning from the funeral. It took only a matter of seconds to figure out what was different; the house elves were in mourning. Splendid.

I suppressed the urge to kick a random house elf as I made my way to the study, _my _study. "Damn creatures," I murmured as I passed one in tears. Mother was forever throwing some sort of party; the elves loved her for it. Something about planning a social gathering made them practically orgasmic for some reason.

Locked in the sanity of my study I sat back and appreciated the effectiveness of it all. Above the fireplace hung a gloomy intimidating portrait of my father. He had seen to it that he was immortalized the second that the mansion was officially his.

At first, I thought that I would take the portrait down; I had no real desire to see my father looming over me as I did my work. However, it was near impossible to remove the portrait. It had protection spells so that it could not be destroyed or stolen. As if the thieves were just lining up to steal such a thing…

I sat at the desk in a rare moment of boredom. There was really nothing to do until the next day when I would be meeting with various Ministry officials to gain the authorizations that I required.

My eyes lifted to the ceiling that was done in over extravagance, the entire thing was pure gold. It was worth more than a small country and sat nearly twenty-five feet in the air where it was untouchable. I could appreciate the profligate taste that the study was done in, but I really didn't like it. There was simply no use for it. I absolutely adored money, and, in turn, the showing off of said money. However, there is an extreme difference between showing your wealth and wasting your wealth. A solid gold ceiling was wasting money, plain and simple.

I scowled; Malfoy Manner was truly my father's home. There were many residences in the Malfoy name; the top two though were Malfoy Manor and Reverie Hall. Reverie Hall was at the moment in my grandfather's possession. These two buildings were the most sought after mansions on the continent, mostly for the power they contained within their walls. While both were worthy, I preferred Reverie.

Malfoy Manor was showy and wasteful. The place of my childhood, the birthplace of my unhappiness. I had lusted after Reverie for years; it amused Grandfather to no extent. He felt that my clear preference for the subtler mansion showed a sign of intelligence and character. He also said that I would have to kill him before I took it over.

With a decisive stride I left the study, the room itself was giving me a headache. "Charles" I called out to the eerie butler who always seemed to be lurking about somewhere. "Get me a damn decorator in here, posthaste."

Without waiting for an answer, I stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut behind me just to take in the satisfaction of hearing the noise. A decorator would be here by the time I returned, Charles was nothing if not efficient.

-------

My business for the day completed I stepped back into Malfoy Manor to discover Charles waiting by the door for me.

"A decorator is here as prior to your request, your grace."

I nodded in acknowledgement and made my way to the study, which Charles said she had been in for the past hour. Opening the door quietly enough so that it didn't announce my presence I took the time to observe her observing the room. I took note of her serious contemplation and could practically see her mentally redecorating the study. I also noticed her stunningly bright red hair…

Alarm bells went off in my head, red hair equaled beings that I do not associate myself with. "Pardon me," I nearly smiled as she practically jumped out of her skin, "but you wouldn't happen to be, or be related to, a Weasley, would you?"

She finally turned and met my eyes with an unwelcome defiance. "I am a Weasley. And before you throw me out, which I have no doubt will get you off, know that I am the very best in the business and I have no interest in interacting with you any more than absolutely necessary."

"As I have no desire to see my home turned into the equivalent of a muggle farm I can tell you that your 'expert' services are not needed, nor wanted. I trust you can remember your way out?"

Obviously not in the mood to breech the limits of propriety, or her pride, she stalked out of the room without so much as a backwards glance at me. This brought the first smile that my features had seen in years; it was nice to know that you just never outgrow certain things.

"Charles," I called and received the wanted person within seconds.

"Yes, your grace?"

"When I told you to get a decorator, I meant one of a tasteful, experienced, elate persuasion. Do make an attempt to not hire a Weasley for anything other than cleaning…and even then, make sure that it's cleaning the outside area, understood?"

"Yes, of course," he said immediately. I raised an eyebrow. "Your grace," he amended quickly.

"And, Charles," I said as he turned to leave. "I am entertaining very important guests in three days time. Guests that are in dire need of influence to gain my admittance to the business world. I do not need to inform you of the significance that they be treated with every luxury and courtesy while residing here. You may go."

Left alone in the still overbearing study I walked behind the desk and sat in the massive chair. This had to work out or Malfoy would cease to be what it was. Grandfather had been foolish enough to not exert his powers over my father. Half of it was gone, the other half being used to carry out my plan, my risk.

If this didn't work, the name would be all that we had left. Things would be sold, auctioned off to the highest bidder. Grandfather was resting the fate of our family on my shoulders.

I slammed a fist down on the table. I shouldn't have to be doing anything of this nature. I should have been given the choice of either leisurely bidding my time or going full force into the world.

I loved money. Desired it above all else. If I didn't pull this off, I would be lacking extremely in my one true love.

My potential business partners came to mind. Their respective businesses weren't exactly legal, but legality has always been of a minimal concern to my family. There was power in my name, they would have to trust in that, as my bank account was severely lacking.

Pulling it off would result in our fortune increasing by a tenfold…the risks were worth it, even if the odds were not entirely in my favor. It was necessary and I would pull it off. I would not fail.

-------

A/N- For those of you unfamiliar with Mythology Cronus was a God who, upon hearing it fated that one of his children would overthrow him, literally swallowed each newborn whole. I found this to be a Malfoy-like characteristic and couldn't resist using his name. Let me know what you think, comments are very appreciated.


	2. Chapter Two

Crawling

Chapter Two

It became my new resolve to redecorate before my future business partners arrived. I refused to allow them to judge the Malfoy family as tacky. Therefore, I required a decorator whom was not a Weasley, and fast.

I started to call for Charles, but decided against it at the last second, this was something that required my own personal attention. After all, if you want something done right…

While massaging my temples I contemplated the best person to reference on matters of decoration. A woman, obviously…one with wealth, prestige, and the time to do things such as keep up on the changing of styles. Who did I know…A near-smile came to my face, why Pansy Parkinson, of course.

I sensed that I had little time to wait, so I apparated to the Parkinson Mansion immediately. It became obvious to me that my need was extreme if I was searching out Pansy. I lifted the heavy knocker and brushed past the house elf that opened the oak door.

I was able to make my way to Pansy's quarters out of a memory that I would really rather forget, and bypassing common courtesy I barged into the room to find Pansy in…a rather indecent position.

I smirked as she made a mad grab for the bedcovers to hide her companion, as well as her own naked flesh.

"Oh, do give it up, Pansy darling, nothing that I haven't seen before. Unfortunately."

"Draco," she panted, "I didn't know that you were planning on dropping by today."

"Yes, well sometimes things tend to…pop up, don't you agree?"

She avoided my eyes as she reached down to the floor so that she could slide on a silk robe.

"So," I said as I fell back onto her sofa, "who else is in here? Zabini? McNott? Flint? Please tell me that you haven't grown desperate enough for Goyle again."

"Did you come here for a reason?" she asked icily.

"As a matter of fact, I did. I need your opinion on a topic."

She appeared to be excited. "Really? Of course, Draco, just ask me."

"Hypothetically speaking, say that you were seeking an interior decorator, whom would you call upon?"

"Who would I hire? Uh…let's see…well, the best right now is Ginny, of course, but she is very difficult to get--"

"Ginny _Weasley_?"

"Yes, so you've heard of her then?"

"She went to Hogwarts, Pansy. I do hope that those hair-care charms have not finally seeped into your brain…"

"Huh? No, I don't think so…Anyway, Weasley or not, she is the best. Trust me, I was shocked when I heard her occupation as well, but if you want the best, she's it."

"Out of the question, as if I would allow a Weasel to have the future appearance of my residence in their filthy hands. Is there anyone who didn't grow up on the streets begging for money that you would recommend?"

"Hmm…I suppose that Clara Hopkins is very capable as well. Yes, you should contact her if you cannot get Ginny."

"Hopkins. Very well then, Pansy. I shall allow you get back to your…guest."

I apparated before she had any opportunity to respond, and immediately called on Charles. Except, Charles appeared to not be in the area.

"Well, this is just ridiculous," I muttered.

Stalking out of the study, I went room to room searching for Charles, finally discovering him in the fifth room in which I ventured.

"Your grace," he immediately addressed me as he rose.

"Tell me, Charles, what is the point in paying you to assist me when you are never around to fulfill your job description?"

"I am truly sorry, your grace. I beg your pardon of my blunder."

"Yes, yes, I am sure that you are," I answered flippantly. "I need to speak to a Clara Hopkins, posthaste; make it happen."

"Of course, your grace."

He made no apparent effort to quit the room. "I did mean now, Charles."

"So sorry, your grace."

He left the room as I sat down in a chair. I did not like this room either. The room where--

I unconsciously began to rub my temples, repressing unwanted memories. This room would be redone as well, I decided. Yes, everything needed to change.

Charles rapped on the doorway to alert me that Miss Hopkins was waiting in the study.

I wordlessly rose and walked back to the study, where upon I met a middle-aged brunette who was lustfully gazing about the room.

I cleared my throat and she all but sprinted across to meet me.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, it is truly a great pleasure that you would ask me to redecorate for you! I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to be here."

She stuck out her hand, either for me to shake or kiss, which I promptly ignored. "I want three specific rooms redone, if I do hire you, you are to follow my instructions to a tee."

"I understand, Mr. Malfoy, that will be no problem at all." When I said nothing, she felt compelled to continue the conversation completely alone. "If I may say, I was admiring your magnificent ceiling before you arrived. I mean, the entire thing is absolutely exquisite, not to mention brilliant, a solid gold ceiling, an inspired idea to be sure!"

My eyes drifted upwards. The horrid gold ceiling…

It took me two seconds to make my decision. "I will not be requiring your services, Charles will show you the way out."

With that said, I quickly left the room. No one who loved that ceiling was fit for this task.

"Damn," I said lowly. Now I would have to find someone else…as if I had time for this. Not to mention the fact that I knew of no other decorators besides the tasteless Clara Hopkins. There was no one…

Well, there was the Weasley girl. I immediately shook my head; it was absurd to contemplate the thought of a Weasley working underneath my roof.

"Charles!"

He had just closed the front door to allow the Hopkins girl to take leave. "Your grace, I hope I have not been too forward, but I called upon two other decorators while you were meeting with Miss Hopkins, they are presently in the Dining Hall."

"I do not keep you on staff to presume, Charles." Giving him a pointed look, I stalked into the dining hall.

The two women rose to meet me. To my disgust, they proceeded to curtsey.

"I only have one question, ladies, what do you think of the idea of a gold ceiling?"

They turned and looked at each other, as if to make certain that I was indeed serious.

"Well," the braver of the two began, "I think that it would be…classy."

"Yes," the second echoed, "a wonderful idea, Mr. Malfoy."

"Get out."

They gave me startled looks before starting to walk. "Wait," I called out in utter defeat. Both turned with hopeful expressions. "Where are Ginny Weasley's offices located?"

"Uh…Looks Unlimited." The braver one said after a moment.

The girls turned to each other with what can only be described as dreaminess. "That is like the top place to design…"

"Right. Well, be gone then."

Once they had gone I was left with a very serious problem to face, was I truly desperate enough to hire a Weasley?

I closed my eyes and was flooded with views of nothing but gold walls, ceilings, and floors. That was it, I was just going to go over there and…hire her. What was the world coming to?

I stared at the offices of Looks Unlimited apprehensively. The inside looked all right enough, had it not been for the fact that they were blaring loud music that sounded like nothing more than a consistent thumping.

ooooooooooooo

I had been standing outside Weasley's office for five minutes at least. It was not as if I was afraid to go in. Not at all, I just…

All right, so perhaps I was a tad hesitant, but this was the future of my family, I held the right to be such if I chose to be.

I finally threw open the door and walked in without warning. I watched in pleasure as she jumped out of her chair in fright.

"Weasley, what do you think of a solid gold ceiling?"

"Are you out of your blasted mind, Malfoy? What do you mean, just barging in here like you own the place?" 

"Because I could own it if I so desired. Just answer the question, Weasley."

"You mean like the one that you have in your study? I think that it is a gaudy attempt to show off wealth, you know, the kind where people are trying too hard to impress. It's pathetic, really. Now kindly get the hell out and come back when you have an appointment."

"You're hired."

"Lovely, but I don't recall applying."

Ignoring her, I continued. "You will redecorate three rooms in Malfoy Manor in the style in which I want them. You have precisely two days time to complete this task, I expect you to begin in one hour."

"You're serious, aren't you? Look, Malfoy, when your lackey ordered me over I came because my curiosity had risen. However, after you so graciously dismissed me before I had begun; I doubt that you will be surprised if I refuse your request."

I merely raised an eyebrow at her threat. "I'll see you in one hour. And do keep in mind that punctuality is in your job description."

I then apparated to my gaudy study and prepared for my upcoming business arrangements.

oooooooooo

When exactly one hour, three minutes, and thirty-nine seconds had passed, Ginny Weasley burst into my study with a disgruntled expression on her face.

"You're late, Weasley."

"Bugger off, Malfoy. I just came here to tell you that you are the most bad-mannered, disrespectful, loathsome creature to ever walk the planet!"

"Are you quite finished? The room that you see here is one of the three that you will be working on. Follow me, I will show you the other two."

I passed her and saw her mouth drop open. She nevertheless huffed and walked behind me. I led her into the Room of Obscurity, gave her a moment to observe it, and then took her to the Room of Youth.

"As previously stated, Weasley, you have two days to completely redecorate these three rooms. You may sleep in bedroom located next to the study--"

"I have to stay here? You cannot be serious…"

"I am. This is a task of great consequence; you will not leave here until it is complete. Of course, once you have fulfilled your obligations to my satisfaction, I will reimburse you for your efforts in a substantial way."

"You're talking money…how much?"

"You want an actual figure? Tasteless, Weasley…" Nevertheless, I walked over to a table and wrote a sum on a piece of parchment. I handed it to her, and watched her eyes widen upon reading.

"Uh, so where did you say that I'm supposed to sleep?"

oooooooooo

The following morning I awoke to the sensation of a distinct pounding noise. At first, I thought that perhaps I had once more taken in too much alcohol, but then recalled that I had drunk none.

This noise was obviously not of my own making, which meant one thing: someone was going to pay for waking the master of the house.

I scowled and walked to the direction of the noise, it was coming from my study. Who in the bloody hell had the nerve to cause such a disturbance from _my_ study?

Upon opening the door, I was enlightened...the perpetrator was Weasley.

"Weasley!" I yelled over the thunderous sounds.

She turned around to reveal herself in some sort of crude outfit made completely of jean. "Morning, Malfoy," she yelled back.

I exhaled slowly, restraining myself from performing an Unforgivable. I grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her out into the hallway, where it was significantly quieter.

"Would you care to explain the sounds coming from my study, Weasley?"

She pulled her arm away. "I don't believe that I need to. You hired me to redecorate, and that is what I am doing."

"There are reasons why there are redecoration charms, Weasley--"

"I am using charms, Malfoy. Do you think the hammers just hammer by themselves? I am aware that it is conventional for rooms to be magically changed, but I find it more effective to do it in a more…manual sort of way. By stripping the walls and ceiling bare, it completely rids the room of them, instead of simply covering them up. Makes for a better aura, you see."

"A better what?"

"Aura, Malfoy, it means--"

"I do not care what it means! Just make sure that, for the love of God, you put up some silencing charms. Understood?"

"Sure, whatever, Malfoy." She took on a mocking tone, "Just make sure that, for the love of God, you leave me alone to do my work."

I gave her a look that showed my obvious displeasure at her audacity to deride me, before going to the Dining Hall to take my breakfast.

However, it was not until I sat down at the table did I notice that she had followed me, and had proceeded to seat herself across from me.

"What do you think you are doing?"

She flashed me an incredulous expression, "Getting breakfast."

"You do not breakfast with me."

"Then who do I eat with?"

"The help."

"You are positively boorish, do you know that? I've been up for hours working on your blasted study, the least you can do is feed me."

I'm paying her, am I not? It is not as though she was doing it out of the goodness of her heart. "Fine. You may dine with me this morning, but that is all."

She rolled her eyes, "Damn decent of you, Malfoy." When I made no response, she pursued the bothersome habit of humming out-of-tune. She began to add words to her imaginary beat, but then suddenly stopped as her face lit up with recognition. "Oh! I nearly forgot that I had something that I wanted to ask you about."

She did not attempt to add to her comment, which only served to irritate me. "And that would be?"

"That ghastly portrait of your father, you know the one where he looks as though he has just gotten through with slaying someone? May I dispose of it or at least place it somewhere else?"

"If you discover a way to take it down, by all means dispose of the thing."

"Okay. So…what do you eat around here for breakfast?"

"Whatever I please."

"May I have some pancakes?"

"You will have what I have."

"That's discourteous of you. Whatever though, I'm starving, I'll eat anything…" She looked contemplative for a moment, and then added, "I don't like eggs, however, so I do not think I would eat them."

"Charles," I summoned. Upon seeing the man, I ordered, "We shall both have eggs for breakfast."

"What kind of eggs, your grace?"

I raised an eyebrow at Weasley. "Which kind of eggs would you say you dislike the most?"

"Scrambled," she scowls.

"Very well then, we shall take scrambled eggs."

She scoffed at me and leaned back in her chair. "You know, I was making an attempt to be nice to you--"

"Well don't. I do not need anyone, least of all someone clad in such a peasant material as jean, to be pleasant to me."

She looked down at her outfit in confusion. "You mean my overalls? I think that they're cute."

"They are not 'cute' they belong on a muggle farm, not Malfoy Manor. Do make efforts to appear somewhat professional as you stay here, Weasley. I understand that fashion is difficult for someone such as yourself to comprehend, but your outfit is giving me a headache."

She pushed her chair away and called out, "Oh, bugger off," before leaving the room.

I shrugged and awaited my breakfast in the blissful silence that I had longed for all along.

oooooooooooo

A/N- I wanted to thank **Siren Duveil** for pointing out the whole 'Manner, Manor' thing in the first chapter, that problem is now fixed, and my various English teachers would have been ashamed of me, lol. And sorry about the gay little 'ooooo' things, wouldn't allow anything else to show up as a dividor.

In addition, I'm bored, so I'm going to do review shout-outs…did I mention that I'm bored? Lol.

Gpotter (Aww, the first reviewer of the story…Lol. I'm a sucker for the whole 'flash-forward thing, as well as for angst-ridden Draco, so glad that you enjoyed that part. First person p.o.v.'s are turning into my specialty, lol, I now have quite a few of them, but this is the first Draco one I've tried.), **Criminy **(Oh…my…God, you agree with my on Bush and Kerry!!!! Wow, no one _ever_ agrees with me on Kerry=moron. And are you as sick of the whole "he's a war hero, so therefore you love him and vote for him." Personally, I don't care about military experience, how does that determine if you'd make a decent president? Oh, no, I've gone off on a rant…lol. Glad that you're enjoying the story!), **BrownPyrde **(Well any G/D stuff isn't till much later on in the story…so perhaps by that time you'll become a fan of the genre, lol.), **CaretoDream **(You think Malfoy's a complete jerk? I find him endearing, lol. Uh, well I'm an angst fan, lol, but hopefully you won't find it unbearable amounts.), **RussellGrl15 **(Wow, thanks! It's awesome that you love the story, but to hold your attention through Hollywood Squares…well, damn, now that's impressive. Lol!! Right now I'm watching--if you care--Texas Chainsaw Massacre…which is kind of gross actually, this dude just had his leg sawed off. Lol, I found the portrait thing funny after you mentioned it, I can picture that too! And I'll try my best not to go downhill, lol.), **Mia Sedai **(Oh, I'm glad that you dislike the 'ick' factor to D/G because I hate fluffiness. Especially Draco and Ginny fluffiness, it just seems…weird, lol. Thanks for your compliment, and I hope that you continue to enjoy the story!), **Siren Duveil **(Thanks again for pointing out the Manner thing, I really do appreciate it, and nice to see that someone else is a fan of mythology! Lol, Cronus always amused me…which only goes to prove that I have a twisted sense of humor.), **Terin Kail **(Thanks, glad that you liked the first chapter! I have yet to complete give up on a story, lol, so hopefully I won't start now.), **LeowynEvangolen** (Glad that you like it! Lol, you'll find out the 'money plan' soon enough, trust me, it's pretty interesting…and illegal. The best kind of plan! Lol.), **RonandHerm4eva **(LOL! I never thought about the indigestion factor with eating newborns…perhaps he took some Tums?), **Charmed-Goddess-07 **(Wow, glad that you are enjoying the story so much! This plot has been keeping my interest, and I've already started work on the next chapter, so I don't think that I'll be stopping anytime soon, lol.), **Echo256 **(Thanks! I'm glad that you're into the story, and thank you for reviewing.), **Beauty Eclipsed **(Lol, hopefully it'll stay interesting. Thanks for the review!)

Hmm…I'm still bored. Pity.


	3. Chapter Three

Crawling

Chapter Three

It soon became imminent that Weasley and I were going to have two major problems. One: She was, quite possibly, the most irritating person that I had ever encountered. Two: Her decorating skills were positively brilliant.

Of course, on the surface, problem two appeared to not be a problem at all; because an impeccably decorated mansion was my chief concern…but issue one caused it to become such. You see, after the first day I desired nothing more than to fire Weasley. However, once the fruits of her labor became evident, dismissing her became an impossibility.

It was at this point when Weasley chose to disrupt my thoughts by barging into my private bed chambers.

"You're one sick fuck, Malfoy," she seethed before pulling her right arm back and releasing it full-force in the direction of my face.

Fortunately, I instinctively caught her wrist before she could impose any actual damage. "I would not try that again, Weasley. I am not Potter; I have no qualms with hitting back."

"I bet you wouldn't. Tell me right now why you have this, or I swear that I'll—"

"Have what?"

"_This_." She pulled out a photo of herself. Picture Weasel was walking back and forth in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic, in a pacing style.

"So basically you're angry with me because you have a picture of yourself? I would be upset as well; it is a horrid photo, but no need to go around attempting to maul people, Weasley."

"God, you're daft. I'm angry, Malfoy, because I found this in your bloody study! You have five seconds to explain to me what you were doing with it."

"As if I would willingly keep a picture of you in my home…"

"Well you seem to be quite the fan of pictures, Malfoy, as you have an entire stock of them."

"Would you control that temper of yours for two seconds and tell me what you are going on about?"

"Follow me," she fumed.

I reluctantly walked behind her as we went to my study, which was now minus the gold ceiling, and had a marble one in place of it. She silently pointed up above the fireplace, where my father's portrait was now vacant from.

"How did you get that down?"

"Standard charms, Malfoy."

Smug bitch. I had tried every spell and charm imaginable to get past the defenses of that portrait. I walked up to the wall and saw…a safe? The only reason that one would have to guard a safe so securely would be if they were keeping—

"Oh, get that greedy look off your face. I already opened it, there isn't money inside."

"You opened it?"

She shrugged. "Can I help it that I'm good in charms?"

"Open it again."

"It's now unlocked, sweetheart."

I glared at her, of course I knew that. "Do not, on any occasion, ever refer to me by that name again."

"No problem, honey."

This is why you do not hire Weasleys…

Nevertheless, I climbed up on the muggle ladder that she had placed in front of the fireplace, and pulled open the safe. It was filled with nothing but pictures. Thousands upon thousands of pictures. How utterly useless…

At least now I knew what Weasley was on about, this was quite strange. And she had found her picture in here…Father was clearly more insane than I thought, he willingly kept pictures of Weasley.

"Well?" she demanded impatiently.

"Well what? None of this is any business of yours." I climbed back down, "I suggest that you move onto another room for the time being, and if I find out that you have spoke of this to anyone—"

"Like I care that you have a stalker fetish with pictures. Just keep mine bloody well out of it."

"Leave, Weasley." She glared before trudging out of the room.

With her gone, I grabbed a stack of photos, and carried them over to my desk. I thumbed through them; I did not recognize hardly any of these people. A few I had seen around the Ministry, but apart from that…

What had Father been up to?

I took a few more pictures, and apparated over to Reverie Hall…I needed to speak to Grandfather.

* * *

I swiftly walked through the halls of the mansion until I reached Grandfather's room. I knocked lightly, before entering without given permission.

Seated in a chair by the window was my grandfather. Seated in his lap was Holly, his mistress. I must say, I hope that I have half as much…energy as Grandfather does when I am his age.

"Out, Holly," I ordered to the girl a year younger than myself.

She meekly left the room.

"Draco, my son, what brings you back so quickly?"

I wordlessly dropped the stack of pictures in his now vacant lap. He gave me a curious look before glancing at them.

"What are these?"

"These, apparently, belonged to Lucius. They were behind his portrait."

"The indestructible one?"

"The very same."

"Well done, Draco, I had thought that hideous thing would be there for all time. Voldemort himself put the defense spells on it, you know."

"Voldemort? Why?"

Grandfather chose not to answer. "So these are what Lucius was hiding…"

"There's thousands more."

"I see. I shall keep these, and will be by the Manor later in the week to view the rest. You are dismissed, Draco."

I nodded to him and disapparated. I do not think that I have had one conference with Grandfather that has lasted more than fifteen minutes…

I sighed heavily once back in the study; I now required something else entirely to place on the wall. It wouldn't do to have a large metal safe sticking out above the fireplace. I climbed up on the ladder, closed the safe, and then went to find Weasley.

She was in the Room of Youth; also known as a playroom of sorts for the Malfoy heir. Horrid place…

"Weasley, find a new portrait to place over the safe."

She looked surprised, "I get to pick?"

"Tasteful and classy, Weasley. Nothing trashy…I know that it's hard for you to resist, but do make an attempt."

She seemed so thrilled at the prospect of free reign on the portrait, that she took no heed to the insult. "I know just the thing…give me five minutes!"

She sprinted across the hall to the fireplace in my study and flooed to God knows where.

Within a few minutes she was running back across, "I have been searching for the perfect place to use this painting. Of course, I wanted to put it in my own home, but I didn't feel right doing so. But you'll have no qualms about it."

I nearly had to take a step back from her. She was almost…friendly. It was rather frightening, really. I must remember to never give her free reign on paintings again.

Nevertheless, I followed her to the study, which now held a disturbing sort of work of art—if it can indeed be called that.

"What the hell is that?"

"This," she beamed, "is only one of the greatest artworks of the twentieth century. Though, technically, it belongs to the nineteenth century, but it was painted towards the end, and was never fully appreciated until—"

"You're babbling, Weasley."

"Oh, right. Anyway, Malfoy, this is 'The Scream' by Edvard Munch. Is it not the most magnificent thing?"

"Magnificent? Hardly. I would call it disconcerting, but not magnificent."

"Malfoy, this is one of the most famous pieces of art in the world; do you know how many art collectors would give their right arm to have it in their possession?"

I tilted my head and looked at it again. It was still strange looking. But if it was as popular as she said it was… "Fine, it can stay."

* * *

It was creeping nearer to the third day. Weasley was irritating me more than she had been, for she was cutting it close on her one stipulation: Make the deadline. Honestly, it is not a difficult concept.

As I prepared to go inform Weasley of this, Charles appeared, as he is often prone to do.

"My apologies for the interruption, you grace," he amended before I had the opportunity to scold him. "I have been seeking you to inform you of the arrival of American business guests."

"They're here?" I said quickly, experiencing the rarity of being surprised.

"Yes, your grace."

"Take them to the study…I'll be there in a moment."

I went to the last room that Weasley was working on, the Room of Youth. It took less than a second to see that she wasn't done.

"My guests have arrived," I announced to her, though I am not sure why. It's no business of hers.

"I thought that they weren't supposed to come until tomorrow?" She actually appeared to be worried about this.

"Well they came early. I'm meeting with them in the study, I'll keep them in there for one hour, at which time I will return to you, and I expect this room to be completed."

"An hour?"

"Yes, Weasley. One hour, sixty minutes, three thousand six hundred seconds; whichever way you want to phrase it that is all the time that you have. Understood?"

She nodded mutely, but looked piqued all the same. As long as I didn't come back to a room featuring a circus theme though, I couldn't care less if she was hacked off.

* * *

I took a breath before I entered the study. This was it, the moment that I had been waiting for and counting on for years. Everything in my life had been leading up to this one decision, and I was determined to thrive.

Standing in the middle of my study, facing the fireplace, were three men, each with his arm wrapped the back of his own attractive blonde.

"Gentlemen," I greeted coolly, "ladies. I welcome you to my home."

"Glad to be here, Malfoy," the man in the middle said jovially. "I hope that you don't mind that we're here a bit early. Or that we brought the gals with us, when they heard that we were coming to England they just couldn't stay at home."

"Not at all, your presence has been long-awaited."

He nodded and took a step towards me, the blonde in tow. "I'm Timothy Donaldson, we spoke previously on several occasions via Floo Network," he said with an outreached hand. "And this is my wife, Lorie."

I shook his hand out of etiquette; I truly dislike the act of handshaking as most people are rather free and disgusting with their hands. I nodded to his wife, and then moved on to the next couple.

"Jonathon Bates," the frighteningly tall man said lowly without a trace of a smile. He jerked his head in the direction of his blonde, "my wife, Cady."

The third man appeared apprehensive, but not altogether unfriendly. "Marquis Bolander."

The woman beside him grinned up at me, "You'll have to forgive Marc, he lacks manners, such as introducing his wife. I'm Jacqueline, but feel free to call me Jackie."

"A pleasure," I said, a little put off by her abrasiveness. Women of high breeding would never have the gall to cross their husband such.

"So, Malfoy," Donaldson said, the clear spokesmen of the group, "we couldn't help but notice your painting."

I knew that painting was a mistake.

"Yes," Jacqueline continued, "I consider myself quite the art lover, and I have been almost obsessively following the story of the missing Munch…and here's it's been all along. So how'd you do it?"

"Pardon?" what was she on about?

"The painting," she repeated with confusion, "don't act as though you don't know that it's stolen."

Weasley stole a painting? Now that is interesting… "Ah, yes. I'm afraid that I do not view the taking of paintings from muggles to be stealing."

"Edvard Munch _was_ a muggle," she said angrily, "wouldn't you agree that his masterpiece deserves to be among his own people?"

"Not especially, no."

She unwittingly continued all the same, "The most brilliant artists that have ever lived have been muggles, you know; Picasso, Da Vinci, Van Gough…the only artist the Wizarding Community has to claim is Michelangelo, and I find his works to be lacking."

"Jacqueline," Bates snapped finally, "no one wishes to hear your views on something as petty as art."

Her eyes found the floor, and she said no more.

"Please excuse Jackie," Davidson said after a moment, "she's our resident liberal."

"Of course. Shall you wish to be shown to your rooms before we begin our business, gentlemen?"

Davidson made clear eye contact with Bolander and nodded decisively. "If your man could take the ladies to their respective rooms, we would prefer to start immediately."

"As you wish. Charles," he stepped out from the hallway, "show Mrs. Davidson, Mrs. Bates, and Mrs. Bolander to their rooms at once."

When the women had gone, I gestured for the men to take rest upon the davenports that Weasley had set up.

"You understand, Malfoy," Davidson began, "that we care not of the questionable activities which lead to your attainment of 'The Scream'. Personally, I find it commendable to see the lengths that a man will go to in order to obtain the object of his desire."

Perhaps the painting was not a horrid thing after all. I extensively knew of each mans history; legality was of little importance in their self-acclaimed circle of superiority. Each descended from the longest pureblooded lines in America; they were wealthy, powerful, and ruthless.

The three families had been interconnected for countless generations, and had formed something of a mob…though nothing quite as dramatic as muggle versions of gangs. They simply preferred to keep it within the three families, and if the Malfoy name were to added to the prosperous chain, it would be the beginning of a monumental union.

"Malfoy," Bolander said after silence had ensued, "are you married?"

"No," I quickly answered.

I did not miss the look that passed between the three of them.

"Still clinging to bachelorhood, eh, Malfoy?" Davidson said in a joking tone.

"I suppose you could view it in that manner."

He cleared his throat and lost the smile. "Coincidentally, we all have found that we…Well, we frankly enjoy dealing with men of family. We have discovered that they are of a more mature nature, and it keeps things friendly between everyone. The men do business, the wives go shopping, and the kids play together."

Fuck. They wanted responsibility…I had to gain entrance into their world, there was no possibility of my failure. And if that meant that I had to lie…well, lying has never really bothered me anyway.

"I have a fiancé," I said expressionlessly.

"Congratulations," Davidson said immediately. "Who is the lucky girl?"

"She's here, actually."

"How wonderful! You sly dog, you've had her stashed away from us. Well come now, bring her in so that we may meet her."

I stood, "She would be delighted to make your acquaintance. If you will excuse me for a moment, gentlemen…"

I left the room and went back to the Youth Room. "Weasley," I called upon opening the door.

She looked beyond frazzled. "It has not been an hour!"

"That is not actually what I wanted to talk to you about…"

* * *

A/N—Hey, this is finally getting somewhere, lol. I promise that it won't turn cheesy. I have plans for this to be somewhat dark, but I usually end up slipping humor in everything, as that is my personality. Umm…yeah, I'm rambling, so I'll just shut-up now.

I will try to get the next chapter out soon, please review!!!


	4. Chapter Four

Crawling

Chapter Four

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Please make attempts to be somewhat ladylike, Weasley. And, no, I am not kidding you. I rarely kid."

She started to pace. "You are out of your mind, that's it…you've finally went 'round the bend, and I'm paying the consequences of simply being here! If you don't—"

"Would you calm yourself before you have some sort of seizure? I wasn't actually proposing marriage, Weasley, just making a suggestion that it would benefit each of us to pretend to be engaged for a short time."

"How in the hell would that benefit _me_?"

This is the part that I disliked…the payoff. Mind you, it isn't the act of bribery that bothers me so, in fact, I rather enjoy it as a pastime…No, it is the act of paying off a Weasley that gives me just cause to flinch.

"I will obviously pay you for your services."

"Like I'm some common whore? I'll have you know that I cannot be bought, Malfoy. Go find yourself someone on the corner."

"What corner? What are you rambling about now?"

"The…you know, whores stand on the—oh, just forget it! The point is that you cannot buy me to be your little…disgusting fake fiancé. There is not enough money and prestige in the world to tempt me to do that."

Prestige? I simply nodded as if I had the slightest clue as to what she was speaking of.

"And furthermore," she continued, "you didn't even have the decency to inform me of why you so desperately require a fiancé. You can't just bust in and expect me to go along with some plan that is probably illegal without letting me into the loop!"

"I believe that you have all ready made it quite clear that nothing will induce you into this agreement, so I see little point in informing you of that which in my business."

She bit her lip, "Well…I mean, maybe if you tell me then I'll be more…sympathetic."

The day a Weasley is sympathetic towards a Malfoy is the day I eat my own foot. She was up to something. Unfortunately, I had not the time, nor the patience, to discover what exactly she was attempting to pull. She was looking for a reason to agree to this. Fine, if she desired a way in without making herself appear as a 'whore' then I would give her one. And I would expose her motivation at different time.

"Very well, Weasley," I obliged. "As you know, I have business guests staying with me. For matters of appearances I require the look of the well-adjusted life which I lack. I do not have the time to hunt for a suitable 'fianc' so I must take my chances with you, assuming that you will agree. As stated, you will be compensated in any manner of your choosing; a home, money, a business of your own…anything within reason."

A pained expression overtook her features momentarily before she covered it expertly. With her quick emotionless trick, I felt something relative to hope that she could help me pull this off.

"All right," she said flatly, "but I get to pick my payment."

"I previously told you that you could. Name your terms, Weasley."

"Not now. I'll inform you of my imbursement when it is convenient to me."

I took a sharp intake of breath. The idea of her holding the upper hand was unappealing, to say the least. However, I was running out of time as we had all ready been in this discussion for far too long. They would grow suspicious if I took too long to bring in my fiancé. I did not have the option of denying her, and that fact irked me to an extreme.

"As you like it, Weasley." I extended my arm to her, "Shall we go?"

She looked down self-consciously at her stained outfit. Before she could comment, I pulled my wand out and transfigured her disgusting jean apparel to a sleek black dress robe. With another flick, her hair piled itself elegantly atop her head.

A smile nearly came to her lips before she caught herself. "Fine, Malfoy, we can go."

I led her to my study, and whispered to her as we walked. "I think it would be best for you to refer to me by something other than 'Malfoy' Ginny dear. And do make attempts not to flinch when I call you endearments, it gives an unpleasant effect, you understand."

"Of course…Draco."

I nodded down at her, "Better. Again though, lose the look of disgust."

She brightly smiled, but the hatred in her eyes could not be disguised. "I understand, Draco. I am, after all, your lovely and complacent fiancé without a brain or a clue. I am here to look good and, in turn, make you look good."

"That's the spirit. However, sarcasm will land you nowhere, so I suggest you misplace it temporarily."

We stood silently in front of the double oak doors. She nodded to me and I opened one door, guiding her through it.

The three men immediately stood and it was impossible to miss their clear judgments of her initial appearance.

"Gentlemen, may I introduce you to my fiancé, Ginerva Weasley?"

She flashed them a grin, "Call me Ginny, please, only my mother refers to me by Ginerva."

"Miss Weasley," Donaldson spoke up quickly, "delighted to make your acquaintance." He gave me a wink, "Now we see why you'd hide her. She is a lovely young thing indeed, Malfoy."

"Thank you," I responded. Ginny's smile faltered as I read her mind, the role of trophy was a position that she had never been placed in, obviously.

"Ginny," I coaxed her back to her reality, "this is Timothy Donaldson, Jonathon Bates, and Marquis Bolander."

She gave each a polite inclination of her head, "A pleasure, gentlemen."

I gestured for them to resume their seats, and helped Weasley to her place by me.

"I was under the impression," Donaldson said after a moment, "that Weasleys and Malfoys had something of a blood feud waging."

I stared down his blatant challenge. "At times maturity and reason overtake petty disputes. When you stumble upon a diamond in the rough, only a fool retreats."

"Undeniably so, Malfoy." He turned to my play-fiancé, "I knew a Weasley once."

"Congratulations," she said dryly.

I shot her a reprimanding look; she needed to learn to control that damn temper of hers.

"Name was Bill," Donaldson continued, "hell of a guy."

Ginny paled noticeably before jetting out of the room.

"Excuse me," I said lowly before taking off after her. I found her in the hallway, sitting on the floor, knees clutched to her chest as she rocked herself back and forth in sobs.

I squatted down awkwardly next to her, unsure of what to do for once. Obviously, this was not a stellar start to the whole thing.

She raised her tear-streaked face to meet my own. "I-I apologize. Just give me a moment."

I nodded. "I'll make your excuses for you. I shall come collect you in your room in an hour for dinner."

I didn't like Weasleys, but that didn't mean that I wasn't informed about them. Bill was Ginny's brother…I say was because it is well-known that he was murdered not even six months ago.

I gathered my composure before entering back into the room.

Donaldson regarded me with narrowed eyes, "Your fiancé always have that reaction to the mention of the name Bill?"

"Only when it is in reference to her recently deceased brother."

"I was unaware. My apologies to you and your fiancé, Malfoy."

I said nothing. He was more than aware that Bill Weasley was Ginny's brother, and even more aware of the fact that he was dead. Or, at least he should be, as Donaldson's lackey killed the man.

* * *

I stood outside of Weasley's door, pondering the recent change of events. This entire situation was strange before, but now…now it seemed like a b-rate horror novel. I must admit, I did not entirely think the whole ordeal through at first, of the details that it would entail and whatnot.

Of course, I knew the proper etiquette of an engaged couple in high society, but I feared that Weasley would require a few lessons. Alas, I did not possess the time or the patience, to teach her. Being engaged as a Malfoy is a far cry from simply being engaged.

Public displays of affection are in no way permissible. Obviously, this should cease to be an issue for Weasley and myself. Other things though, from something simple as proper dining seating, to acceptable conversations, worried me immensely. I highly doubted that she had exposure or training for situations such as these, I could only hold out hope that she wouldn't spoil the entire deal for me.

I rapped three times on her door; all guests were currently resting before dinner, so I had time to cram as many manners in her as possible.

The door opened slowly. Weasley's eyes were still red, and her cheeks botched. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes skyward; it had happened over half a year ago…get over it.

She retreated back into her room, leaving the door open for me to enter. I followed after a moment and surveyed the room silently. Everything was a mess. Clothes and papers were just everywhere, it was disgusting, not to mention embarrassing. This muddle did not belong in my manor.

She perched herself upon the unmade bed as I stood in front of the doorway. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I hardly think that you are in any position to be hostile to me. Your little display could have ruined me, keep your damned emotions in check, Weasley. When you appear weak, I appear weak, so buck up."

"Wow, what a motivational speech. Really, you should look into public speaking; you are just oh-so good at it." She threw herself back against the covers. "I can be emotional if I want to be, leave me alone."

"You will be as I tell you to be. There are a few things that you need explained to you, Weasley, for as long as you remain within the title of my fiancé you will act accordingly, or I will see to it that your life becomes Hell."

"Well maybe I just won't be apart of your plan then. You mistake who is holding the power here."

"I am not. You agreed to it—"

"And it is my right to take it back. I can leave if I so choose."

"You agreed to it," I continued, "within my walls. It was a verbally binding magical contract, Weasley. You hold no power other than what your payment shall be, so it is you making the mistake."

Her mouth dropped open. "You dirty vile ferret! You are supposed to inform people when walls have ears!"

"I inform at my own discretion. I assure you that the contract is legal. You will find that you are literally unable to walk away from this, Weasley."

"I really hate you. I just hope that you know that."

"I'd worry if you didn't.

* * *

A/N—It's short, I know. But my computer crashed recently and I lost everything that I had saved on there, including part of this chapter. I really despise rewriting things, it's just boring and repetitive, so this chapter was somewhat of a bitch to get through. But I did, and it's done, and now I can move on, lol.

But I've had a shitty few weeks, so review and make me feel better. Insert sad puppy dog eyes here.


	5. Chapter Five

Crawling

Chapter Five

Dinner went on without incident. Well, perhaps that is the wrong phrasing. Of course there was incident. Four representatives from the four most powerful families in the international Wizarding World were present at a dinner with one self-righteous Weasley. Incident is inevitable.

However, the incidents were small and, while not unnoticeable, did not warrant conversation or over-thought. Nothing that could not be overlooked easily enough…more than I had been hoping for anyway.

Weasley, well…she didn't exactly blow everyone away, but she held her own. She didn't run out of the room crying at any point during the dinner—so that's a definite step forward. Which reminds me, I was going to have to make sure that Weasley doesn't find out about Donaldson's role in her brother's death, because that just wouldn't be good for business. It's hard to explain to your potential business partners why your supposed fiancée is attempting to kill them. It just makes for awkward conversation.

As dinner adjourned I linked Weasley's arm with my own, thus signifying for each couple to respectively retire for the evening.

"Gentlemen," I said with finality, "if you will excuse us for the remainder of the evening. We shall look forward to your presence at breakfast."

"Of course," Donaldson replied as he helped his wife out of her chair. "Goodnight Malfoy," he tipped his head in my direction before walking over to Ginny. He placed a light kiss on her hand, "Have a good evening, Miss Weasley."

"You as well," she responded quietly.

I nodded to each of them before leading her out of the room. I did not miss her look of protest as I forced her into my room.

With the door shut she turned to me, anger evident in her eyes. "I would like to go to my room now, Malfoy."

"You never know who is watching, Weasley. I refuse to botch this on your want to be in your room—which, consequently, is my room, as I own it. I have no interest in taking advantage of you or whatever else is going through your mind at the moment. My bed is very large, or if you prefer, my sofa is rather comfortable."

"How gallant of you," she sneered, "offer _me_ the sofa instead of taking it yourself."

I shrugged. It was my room, my home, my money that was paying her. There was no way I was sleeping on the sofa. I offered to allow her to share my bed—what more did she want? She couldn't be discovered sleeping in a different room, "love problems" were the last thing I needed to appear to be having.

"The choice is up to you, _dear_," I said and reveled in her flinch at the last word.

"Whatever," she mumbled finally, "I'll take the sofa. There's no way I'm sleeping in the same bed as you—that seems like it should be a sin of some sort."

I raised an eyebrow at her while deliberately attempting to provoke her. "You never know, Weasley. I think you'll find that once you share my bed you'll never be able to go back. But have a nice night on the sofa."

She glared before stalking over to the sofa and throwing herself down on it. I'm fairly sure that I heard a "fuck off," but I cannot be entirely sure.

* * *

The sunlight streamed across my face, awaking me slowly. I stretched but was careful not to move the woman resting on my shoulder—Wait a minute…I didn't go to bed with anyone last night.

It was Weasley. Well, now that _is _interesting. Guess little miss "sleeping with you is a sin" couldn't hack the sofa. Unfortunately, it took me a moment to realize that she was on me, as in touching me…completely unacceptable.

I immediately shrugged her off and sat up in the bed. The action woke her up and her eyes searched the room apprehensively.

She gasped upon seeing me and pulled the sheets up to her chin. "What are you doing in my bed?!"

"Correction, my bed. And you found your own way here, Weasley, so kindly find your way back out."

"I—how did I get…" she trailed off.

I noticed her obvious stare at my bare chest and smirked, "Told you that you'd enjoy sharing my bed."

"I did _not_—"

"You were attempting to cuddle with me, Weasley. And, for future reference, Malfoys don't cuddle, so refrain yourself."

She glared at me indignantly, "Don't flatter yourself; this will not be a repeat performance. Ever."

"They all say that in the beginning, Weasley."

She promptly screamed and removed herself from my bed. I sighed and swiftly moved to block the doorway.

"Let me out!"

"No. Stop being childish, Weasley."

"I am not being childish." She then proceeded to bang her fists against my chest, to which I picked her up and tossed her back on the bed.

I grabbed a hold of her wrists and positioned them over her head. "Listen hard, Weasley, because I'm only going to inform you of this once. I do not accept temper tantrums. You are an adult, I am an adult. We dislike each other, yes, but we also have an agreement. So get over yourself and act your bloody age or you will not like the results, I promise you. Do you understand?"

She glared up at me, "Perfectly. I understand that you are an insufferable prat…always have been, always will be."

"You see, Weasley, there in lies your problem—you are far too emotional. I may be a 'prat,' yes, but you are a bitch. And you don't see me pitching a fit about it. When you think about it, we really should get along quite splendidly. A bitch and a prat: a reasonable match."

"You—"

"Stop talking. We are done, Weasley. You will at least pretend to respect me because I am paying you. And if that isn't enough incentive for you, then you will respect me because if you don't then I'll go out of my way to make sure that every aspect of your life that you enjoy becomes significantly nonexistent."

I released her wrists and eased off the bed. She sat up slowly as the anger faded from her features. "I feel sorry for you, Malfoy."

I must say, of all the things I expected to come out of her vile little mouth…that was not one of them. "_You_ feel sympathy for _me_? I do not need your, nor anyone else's sympathy, Weasley."

She raised an eyebrow in speculation, "I think you do," she responded quietly. "I think that you'll always be that little boy that had all the money in the world…but not one friend."

I nearly laughed. So she was one of those women. The kind that looks at a, quote unquote, "bad boy" and sees that if you look deep down, he's really not so bad. Well, I am. There is no little boy begging for love in the depths of my soul, there is only greed. And I'm absolutely fine with that—what's love going to get you, after all?

But no matter, if she wanted to believe that…then so be it. As I said before, I have no qualms with lying to people; I do it on a regular basis. "Maybe you're right, Weasley," I said with my eyes downcast, "but you don't care, not really. I've lived alone for many years, without the love or consideration of even a servant; I'll be fine for many more."

She stared blankly up at me. "That is the single biggest load of bullshit that I have ever heard. Do you really expect me to buy that?"

"Buy what?" I asked.

"That you care if you have the 'love or consideration' of anyone. I was stating a fact, Malfoy, about your character. I didn't mean to allow the impression that I was searching for some sort of goodness in you—I already know that there is none. I do feel sorry for you, I meant that, but that does not mean that I plan to act on it in any way. I couldn't care less if you rotted in this awful place."

I glared at her, façade gone. "Breakfast begins shortly, see that you're ready."

I stalked out of the room and into my second bedroom. I'd be damned if I was going to stay in there a second longer with her. Who did she think she was? A Weasley feeling sorry for me—it was really too much.

* * *

Weasley at least had the common sense to wait in the hall for me to take her to breakfast. I carefully gave no expression as I took her arm and walked down to the Dining Hall.

My six guests were all ready present and seated at the table. I nodded to each and pulled Weasley's chair out for her before taking my own. I noticed with farther observation that Bates appeared to have gotten no sleep at all. In short—he looked like shit. But for what reason could this be? What kept my dear guest up all night?

I turn to each of the others. Donaldson and his wife were well-rested. Bate's wife simply looked bored, Bolander was fine—Bolander's wife, however, had circles under her eyes that she had forgotten to hide. Bingo. It would have been too much of a coincidence for Bates and Bolander's wife to have insomnia separately. They were up together…doing what, I would be sure to find out.

I smirk and tuck the information away for future reference; it could only come in handy. If there is one thing that my father taught me (well, one useful thing, anyway) it is that there are only enemies.

Companionship—and by companionship, I mean sex—does not lead to attachment. Use a common whore, he had always said, Lord knows that they have a few tricks or two. As for friendship…who needs it? Friends are only enemies in disguise, had been his advice to me. And he was right, friends only lead to trouble. They distract you and make you think of things other than the tasks at hand. We are always at war, and if you take your mind off that war for even two seconds, you lose.

Same goes for business partners. Business partners are a tricky thing. A certain amount of trust must be given in order to have one in full. However, trust is something that I do not exactly believe in. Trust is vulnerability, and vulnerability is unacceptable. Again, it will only break you financially-wise. And if you're poor, then what use is it to go on living?

I suppose that is why Weasley and I differ so drastically. She views money as something wholly unimportant, I obviously think otherwise. Weasleys, idealistic bunch…money is the only thing of significance in life; it is the only thing that is real. You can reach out and touch money; you may see it for yourself. Things like faith and love—they are theories, plan and simple. Foolish people believe in them, and even more foolish people fall victim to them.

It was obvious that men like Donaldson and my father married for status only. It completes the look to have an attractive woman at your side; it causes your social life to come full circle. I knew that I would have to marry eventually; I simply did not look forward to it.

Would she be blonde, you may wonder. No, Malfoys are not as shallow as all that. Americans seem to epitomize beauty in blondes only, but we know that to be less than true. There are ugly blondes just as there are ugly brunettes, and ugly redheads. So long as a woman is more beautiful than any other in the area, comes from money, and will behave herself in society as well as in private, she could be my potential wife.

I drifted out of my thoughts, though, and focused my attention at the present situation. Weasley appeared agitated with me—didn't take her long this morning.

"Draco, sweetheart," she gritted out, "shall you call upon breakfast, or would you rather I complete the task? I am sure our guests are starving."

Presumptuous women…I cannot stand them. Bolander's wife, however, appeared to be more than thrilled with Weasley's comment.

"Men," the infuriating woman said with a smile, "you have to always keep track of them, right, Ginny?"

Ginny returned her smile, "I do try."

Bates lazily turned his head toward me, "I see your fiancé is a budding Jacqueline, Malfoy."

"I assure you she is nothing of the sort."

Weasley and Bolander's wife appeared offended at this.

"I'll thank you both to recall that my wife is the only woman here whom attended University," Bolander spoke up. "And I see no appeal in a woman of silent surrender—a complete and total bore, wouldn't you agree, Jonathon?"

"Of course," Bates muttered lowly.

Bolander's wife was speaking once more to Weasley. "You'll have to forgive Jonathon," she said with resignation, "he is quite the ogre in the morning…and in the afternoon…as well as the evenings."

Weasley grinned widely at her, "Draco as well. I caught him attempting to torch a small village just the other day."

Small comments and looks, I can overlook. However, Weasley knew the lines, and she also knew that she had crossed one. I cannot allow disobedience to go unpunished; it will only inspire her to do it more often.

I cleared my throat noticeably and raised an eyebrow at her. She held my gaze but said no more.

"Well," Donaldson said after a moment, "I do believe that I am not hungry after all." He stood and his wife immediately followed suit.

"I lost my appetite long ago," Bates said. "Come, Cady."

"She isn't a damn dog," Bolander's wife muttered.

"Marc, do learn to control your wife," Bates responded. "Perhaps a muzzle would do the trick."

"Jonathon has one you can borrow, I'm sure," Bolander's wife shot back.

"Jackie," Bolander said quietly, thus silencing her. "I believe that breakfast is over." I did not miss the irony that breakfast had never indeed begun.

It was a matter of courtesy that each man take his wife and leave me to discipline Weasley. They were all raised in a manner similar to my own childhood, women have no place to talk of their husbands or fiancés in the way Weasley had. Perhaps Bolander allowed his wife such liberties, but he knew the unwritten code as well as the others.

His wife, however, seemed to allow no such courtesy. "I am not going anywhere," she said shortly.

"Typical," Bates responded.

She glared at him, "I refuse to just sit here idly while you all go by the barbaric tendencies of your 'class'. It is ridiculous. She did nothing wrong, and you all are just more than willing to see her punished for an action that does not even require thought. If you had your way, Jonathon, I along with every other woman alive would be beaten into submission on a regular basis."

Her last comment silenced Bates. My eyes drifted toward his wife and I took notice to the light scars on her neck for the first time.

"It's fine," Weasley informed Bolander's wife, "I assure you that I can take care of myself."

Bolander's wife sighed and stood, "If you say so." She had appeared to have given up her unneeded cause, but her face suddenly lit up. "Draco," she addressed me, "could I please speak to you in private for a second?"

Even Bolander looked shocked at this one. "Jackie, it isn't—"

"Of course," I said out of sheer interest alone. "I could never deny my guest such a request."

I began to walk to my study and gestured for her to follow.

Once in my study, I sat down behind my desk, giving myself the look of power, and leaving her to sit in front of me.

"I know what you must think of me," she began. "I know that you most likely view me as an overbearing woman whom does not know her proper place. Well, you're right. I wasn't born into money; I had to make my own way in the world. I was, however, born into a family that taught me that I have the principle right to think and act for myself. I am not like those women out there—and neither is your fiancé. There must be a reason that you chose her, there must a reason that…that you didn't want a mindless beauty that would submit to you no matter what the circumstance. Marc fell in love me, and it took him many years to gain my love and agreement to marriage. I never wanted to be part of that 'circle' of elite magical families. But I am, and I do what I can with it. So, I can only surmise that you fell in love with her, and it takes a strong man to fall in love. I can respect that. Because of that fact I am going to tell you this: get out. Do not go into business with Jonathon and Timothy…or even Marc for that matter. If you love her, then get out of this while you can. Promise me, please, it is of utmost importance."

She was completely insane, I decided. However, as stated, lying and treachery…really, they are two of my hobbies. "I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss it with my fiancé first. You must understand that she is involved with all of my decisions. She," I added modestly, "gives me incentive for integrity."

"You…you really aren't what you appear to be, Draco."

I am not entirely sure why I lied to her and gave her some sort of hope that she had been searching for. I really do not care what she thinks, nor of her attempts to 'save' me. It was wholly unneeded. If she thought that I did not know of the illegal dealings of her husband and his partners then she was truly dumber than I had thought.

Nevertheless, though, I gave her a toothless smile, "I suppose I shall take that as a compliment."

* * *

A/N—I am so sorry that it took me forever and a day to update! Umm, but this chapter was kind of long, so don't be angry? I have just been really busy lately, and I had to write this chapter by bits and pieces whenever I had a few spare minutes. So that's why it took so long to get done.

Reviews are very, very appreciated, so please leave one!


	6. Chapter Six

Crawling

Chapter Six

Weasley sat silently atop the bed in my room. It was nice to see that she could learn her place…I wasn't about to be held responsible for my actions if she attempted to defend herself and start up with me again.

"What you said was completely unacceptable," I began. "This is an act, _Ginny_, and as an actress you should know better! I am paying you to fulfill this role until I can secure my business and if you keep this up then—"

"Then what?" she interrupted. "You'll fire me? Please. You need me, _Draco_, for this business of yours. They want you to have the stable family life and, like it or not, you've chosen to include me in your lie. You can't change that fact now, so you are stuck with me. And while I may be unable to quit because of your blasted contract—which I still say was illegal—I can express myself in whichever manner I choose. If you don't stop being such a bloody ogre to me, then I think I just might show up to dinner tonight in the skimpiest muggle clothes I can find and do a strip tease atop the table!"

Even though my entire body seethed with anger, I must admit…her little speech was unexpected. I never would have thought Weasley to come up with such a Slytherin scheme, and I have to say, I was somewhat impressed. I can appreciate a good scheme when I see one, and hers is very nice, indeed. However, this doesn't change the fact that it irritates me and I'll have to find a way to counter it and make her suffer in the process, but a good effort on her part nonetheless

"Do you truly think I can't find ways to make you suffer, Weasley?"

Her chin made its way into the air and she kept a stiff upper lip. "Physical pain is inconsequential to me. I think you forget the war, Malfoy. I suffered the Cruatcis more than once, so whatever curse you have to throw at me I can handle. You don't intimidate me; let me make that very, very clear to you."

I smirked at her. Did she honestly believe physical pain to be the worst sort? Why would I inflict temporary pain on her when the emotional kind is so much more fun…She is temperamental and expressive, her feelings would only be too easy to manipulate and then destroy.

"There are other ways," I said as I walked slowly towards her, stalking out my prey, "of making one suffer." I stopped in front of her and placed a finger underneath her stubborn chin. "Making you hurt physically would be far from the worst thing you believe can happen to you. I'm excellent at finding and exploiting weaknesses, Weasley. Test me one more inch and I'll tear you down in any manner that I can."

She narrowed her eyes and her face flushed in anger. "Do your worst."

"If you insist," I complied. I lowered my head and kissed her gently at first, then rougher. She was too surprised to react for a moment. However, she did herself in when she opened her mouth. I took entrance and knew I had her.

She finally regained her sensibility and harshly pulled away. She wiped at her mouth furiously, "You pompous _arse_! How dare you violate me in that manner!"

"Oh you say these things, Ginny love, but I don't think that you mean them. Not really, anyway. How long has it been since you last had a good shag, Weasley? For someone who proclaims me their enemy, you took long enough to pull away."

"You kissed _me_! Not the other way around. I was caught off guard, Malfoy, so don't delude yourself into thinking that I am attracted to you at all in that way."

"We shall see about that, Weasley."

"No we won't. Touch me ever again and I'll…I'll…"

"You will do nothing, because you want me to touch you."

"You are unbearably arrogant, Malfoy. I do not want you to touch or kiss me, ever. And for your information the last time I had a good shag was last week with Harry, who, I can assure you, is a far better kisser than you."

Potter. My anger flared at the very mention of Boy Wonder. So, little Ginny Weasley, my fiancé, was with Potter…how interesting. Annoying, but interesting. "Is that a fact?"

"It is."

An idea occurred to me and my smirk returned. "And I wonder what ickle Potter would think if he knew his girlfriend were prancing around posing as his enemy's fiancé."

The arrogance fled her features and she stubbornly attempted to hide her look of astonishment. "He—he would never believe it. He knows me better than that."

"Does he?" I asked condescendingly. "You realize you are magically bound to tell anyone who asks that you and I are engaged. So if I took you to a Ministry gathering where Potter just happened to be and he asked you to deny the fact and you couldn't…he would know that you didn't mean it?"

She stayed silent.

"You see, Ginny dear, I told you I am excellent at finding weaknesses. Try me, Weasley, and I will parade you around in front of the entire world, flaunting our 'engagement' in your precious boyfriend's face. By the time I'm done he will never want to so much as hear your name again, let alone shag you. And just think, whatever will your family say?"

Her eyes narrowed and she marched up to me, closing the space between us. "You do not know the first thing about me, Malfoy. You're right, this little deal you and I have is not something I really want Harry to find out about until I can tell him the truth. But it wouldn't end our relationship because Harry loves me and you have no clue what that is like. He trusts me and you can't understand that because you don't trust anyone. And one day soon, Malfoy, I am going to expose _your_ weakness and when I do I have every intention of tearing your world apart and I will smile as I do it. So don't threaten me, because I promise you that you will only live to regret it."

And after a speech like that I did really the only logical thing there was to do. I slapped her. Well, fine, so I didn't slap the self-righteous bint…but I really wanted to.

I did, however, take slow steps toward her. I leaned down precariously and placed my lips within inches of her ear. "I have no weaknesses, love. Better than you have searched for a weakness to exploit—don't waste your time."

She raised an eyebrow, "We'll see about that, Malfoy."

Suddenly, I was tired of talking with her. "I'll be in my study," I said as I walked toward the door.

"Wait," she called. "May I join you?"

"In my study?"

She nodded. "I would like a book to read."

I jerked my head in indication for her to follow and walked down the hall to my study. "You realize the majority of our fiction novels are in the library?" I said as we entered the study.

"I know…I want something nonfiction." I turned and looked at her in suspicion—I wouldn't put it past her to attempt to brush up on hexing spells. "I wanted to take a nap," she explains quickly, "and I want to read something that will help me sleep."

"Would you like a sleeping draught?" I offered graciously.

"I prefer natural sleep and the easiest way to achieve that is from a boring book."

I shrugged and led her over to the far end of awall shelved with books. My eyes scanned the titles quickly before choosing one that was both safe and eternally boring. "Here," I shoved it towards her chest, "that should help you."

"_The Complete History of Magical Communications_," she read, "sounds…dull. Thank you."

I nodded in acknowledgement and walked over to my desk where some papers had been waiting for my attention.

I soon took notice, however, that Weasley was still in the room. I looked in disbelief as she dragged an armchair over by the fireplace and placed it directly in front of her hideous "scream" painting.

"May I ask what you are doing?" I said finally.

"Getting a chair to read in," she said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Would you not prefer to take your book back with you to my bedroom? I thought you wished to take a nap."

"Oh, I do. But I would really like to read in here—the overall atmosphere just begs for sleep. I truly think it shall help my cause."

I attempted to stare her down but soon grew bored with that process. Fine, if she wanted to sit in my study then I would be gracious and allow her. I am certainly not the ogre Weasley makes me out to be, I reassured myself; after all, would an ogre lend her a book as well as a chair?

"Would you really tell Harry about this fake engagement we have going?" she voiced loudly.

I glared at her, "Please mind to lower your tone, _dear_, you never know who may be listening."

"Indeed," she responded with a small smile. "But did you mean what you said, that you would try to hurt Harry and I by forcing me to tell him that we are engaged even though we are truly not."

Had she lost her mind? "Of course I meant it," I snarled, "I rarely bluff, Weasley."

"I just wanted to clear that up," she said in an even louder tone. "Well, I think this book about did it for me—either that or the pleasure of your company. I'll be taking a nap if you require my services, Malfoy."

I shook my head as she left the room. Would it be too much to ask that the woman I am paying to play the rule of my fiancé be at least semi-normal?

* * *

A/N—I know this is short. But I'm just starting back up with fanfiction writing so it's going kind of slow…but at least I updated something, right? 

Oh and as a way of inspiration to myself I'm having a sort of "contest" going on in my bio. Basically, you get to tell me what story to update it and I swear that I will. So if you're interested then check that out. But before you do, please leave a review—it would be much appreciated. And, hey, I have to spend the next three days with my family…I could use some nice words, lol.


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